


Everyone Can See It

by enigmaticagentscully



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-03 10:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8709190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticagentscully/pseuds/enigmaticagentscully
Summary: A series of little kabby missing scenes, in no particular order but loosely connected by one of my favourite tropes - where every single character is totally aware that there is clearly something between Kane and Abby, and they are Fooling No-One But Themselves :)All pretty much canon compliant, from a different character's perspective each time. Rating may change later I guess.Comments always appreciated!





	1. A Terrible Plan - Major Byrne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (set season 2 - 'Spacewalker')

“This is a terrible plan.”

Major Byrne threw a sideways look at Kane, but decided not to reply. The words had been said under his breath, and not for the first time since they had taken up position in the tree-line, and she wasn’t sure he even realised he was saying it out loud anymore. He was positioned a few feet to her right, peering intently down the scope of his gun.

“I’m sure she knows what she’s doing, sir,” said Miller, who was crouched a little way to her left, holding his gun steady.

“No, she’s just very good at making people _think_ she knows what she’s doing,” said Kane. “There’s a difference.”

Byrne made a non-committal noise. She was a soldier, and her job was to follow orders. The wisdom of letting their Chancellor, not to mention one of the few competent doctors they _had_ , go alone and unarmed to meet a hostile enemy leader, was not Byrne’s to question. Although she had. Several times.

Still, what was done was done, and there could be no changing of plans now. Chancellor Griffin stood some hundred yards away in the middle of an open field, facing the trees from which they knew Indra would emerge. Or at least...they _hoped_ Indra would emerge. With grounders, who knew? Instead of peace talks their Chancellor could just as easily be greeted with a spear through the chest, or with nothing at all. Kane, who had at least spent some time with Indra, considered her to be a woman of her word, but even _he_ had admitted she was dangerous. If things went badly, the unarmed and untrained Abby Griffin wouldn’t stand much of a chance, even with the three of them covertly watching the proceedings from the tree-line.

Three people and three guns was all they could spare, and Byrne wasn’t happy even about that. It wouldn’t be enough to help anything if the grounders _did_ decide to attack in force, and it meant that both Kane and Chancellor Griffin were away from camp at the same time. Although...if this meeting didn’t work then the grounders would attack eventually anyway, and they’d all be killed sooner or later, regardless of who was in charge. So perhaps it didn’t matter.

But that kind of thinking wasn’t helpful. The truth of the matter was that their little team had taken up position mainly in order to give Chancellor Griffin some feeling of safety, even if they would be too far away to offer any realistic help beyond bullets that might just as easily hit her as the enemy. Byrne was beginning to think that in actual fact their presence was more to ease Kane’s mind than Chancellor Griffin’s, since the latter had appeared quite calm and resolved as she walked out into the open, whereas Kane...

Well, he was Byrne’s commanding officer, and she would be remiss in her duty if she hadn’t notice he was as tense as a new recruit, fingers gripping his gun tightly, his face white.

“I don’t know how she got me to agree to this,” muttered Kane, this time almost inaudibly.

Byrne knew full well how the Chancellor had gotten him – and by extension, the rest of them – to agree to this, but decided to keep her mouth firmly shut. If she _had_ chosen to speak her mind, her response probably would’ve been:

_Guilt, sir, in a word. Her guilt and yours. That’s why we all agreed to this._

They were in this situation because the boy Finn had massacred a grounder village with a gun that Abby Griffin had given him. Oh no-one said it aloud, but they all knew it, and Chancellor Griffin knew it too. Why else would she have pardoned the kid so easily? Why else would she be fighting so hard now not to have to give him up? Chancellor Griffin was no fool, and she knew the value of sacrifice – hadn’t she been willing to send her own daughter to the ground on the slim hope that it could save their people? Her stubborn refusal now to sacrifice the life of one young man to save them all...that could only be guilt for her role in this mess.

Kane’s guilt was the more personal kind, the kind that had nothing to do with anything rational or relevant to the situation at hand, and everything to do with the look on his face when he’d agreed to have Abby Griffin shock-lashed for her stunt with the guns. The guilt that made him reluctant to openly go up against his Chancellor now, whatever the provocation.

_“She’s not just my friend”,_ was what he’d said, and although Byrne knew that could have any number of meanings, Kane’s reticence in punishing Abby for her crime at all spoke volumes. Byrne _knew_ Kane – or she thought she had – and he had something of a reputation for strict adherence to the law and a refusal to compromise or make exceptions. He believed that sort of thing would inevitably lead to favouritism, corruption of the justice system. It was something she’d always admired in him, and it had been disconcerting to see him so conflicted about a fairly straightforward example of crime and punishment. A clear example that anyone could see _needed_ to be made.

He had done it in the end, of course. He had ordered Abby Griffin’s ten lashes, and he had stood there and watched as it was done, and he had looked as though he were about to be sick the entire time.

And then he had left.

Byrne knew full well that Commander Kane would have been a lot more hesitant about going on the mission to make peace with the Grounders if it hadn’t been for the shock-lashing incident. She wondered in her more cynical moments whether he hadn’t in fact left the camp just so he wouldn’t have to look Abby Griffin in the eye for a while.

Regardless, the mission had failed in every practical sense. They were on the brink of war with the grounders. But Commander Kane had at least returned safely and, somewhat to Byrne’s surprise, had apparently made no attempt to take back the Chancellor’s pin. So Abby Griffin was now _Chancellor_ Griffin, and with Kane’s backing it looked set to stay that way. Byrne may not have liked the woman’s attitude, but at least the former Councillor knew how to get things done, and you had to respect someone who could not only take ten lashes and still be on her feet the next day, but who was also able to calmly issue orders to the person who had doled out the punishment without any hint of resentment.

“Movement,” hissed Miller on her left, and the group tensed.

Through her scope, Byrne watched a figure that could only be Indra emerge from the trees on the opposite side of the field and stride forward, flanked by two warriors. All three grounders were armoured and visibly armed. A show of strength. They had half expected this, but it didn’t make it any easier to see – Chancellor Griffin was a woman who always seemed to take up a lot of space in any room by sheer force of personality, but now she looked very small, standing out there alone facing the approaching trio.

Chancellor Griffin stepped forwards. Indra did the same. Byrne could see them exchanging a few words, though they were of course far too far away to hear anything. And then, almost too quickly to believe, there was a sudden, violent whirl of movement, and Indra had a knife to Chancellor Griffin’s throat.

“ _Shit_ ,” hissed Byrne, without thinking. Not the most professional response.

“Can you get a sight on her?” said Kane, in a tone of extremely forced calm.

“I...no,” said Byrne. “The other two maybe...she’s too close.”

“Negative for me,” said Miller. “We need to go, now!”

Byrne put out a hand to stop him, without ever taking her eyes off her scope. “Give her a chance,” she muttered.

“A chance! She’ll be killed!” Miller turned to Kane urgently. “Sir, we need to show ourselves now, and she might—”

Byrne risked taking her eyes from her scope, since it was less than useless anyway. “Sir, if we go out now they’ll kill her instantly,” she snapped across Miller’s protests. “We need to let her handle it.”

Kane’s eyes were still glued to his scope, watching the scene unfold, but Byrne could see his jaw was clenched very tight. He seemed oblivious to either her or Miller’s pleas. A glance at Miller himself confirmed to Byrne that he too had given up on watching close-up through the scope, and was staring out at the field, tensed as if to run out into the open at a moment’s notice, something which would almost certainly end up getting Chancellor Griffin’s throat cut.

There was a very long second of silence, in which the future seemed to rest – quite literally – on the edge of a knife, and then...

“Stand down,” said Kane tightly.

Byrne could see the small figures step away from each other, and hurriedly put her eye to the gun’s scope again to confirm that Indra had indeed dropped the knife to her side. A few more words were exchanged, and then, as quickly as they had come, Indra and her two companions turned and strode back towards the forest. As the grounders disappeared into the trees, robbing them of any visible targets, Byrne, Miller and Kane lowered their guns slightly, though by no means relaxing. Any trick or ambush would almost certainly have happened by now, and the moment of danger felt like it had passed...but out here was enemy territory, and it didn’t pay to be incautious.

Chancellor Griffin turned and started to walk back towards them, her posture tense. Byrne tried to imagine what it must feel like to walk at a slow and measured pace across an exposed field, with no weapon and knowing three grounder warriors were hidden in the trees behind you. They all watched her progress towards them with a palpable tension, only released once she reached the tree-line and headed for where she knew them to be concealed.

As soon as she was safely out of sight of any grounders who might be watching from the other side, Kane dropped his gun to his side, rose from his cover and swiftly went to meet her. Byrne saw Chancellor Griffin heave a small sigh of relief at the sight of an ally, and now that she was closer, she could see the Chancellor’s hands were trembling by her sides, and her face was very pale. So she _was_ human after all. That was oddly comforting.

As they met, Byrne thought for one bizarre second that Kane was going to throw his arms around his Chancellor and embrace her, and remembered having thought the same thing of Chancellor Griffin when Kane had returned just the day before and met her at the camp gate. There was something...a sense of the two of them holding themselves in check around each other that she wondered if even _they_ were aware of. Interesting.

The moment was broken by Byrne and Miller leaving cover themselves to join them, keeping an occasional wary glance out to the distant field, just in case. It was good to be up and moving again – they had spent some twenty minutes after having gotten into position crouching amongst the leaf litter, all told. Byrne was pretty sure her legs would ache like hell tomorrow, but since no-one had held a knife to her throat, she supposed she couldn’t really complain.

“How did it go?” said Miller, which Byrne decided was strong contender for ‘stupidest question asked on the ground so far’.

“As well as can be expected,” said Chancellor Griffin bluntly. “They know about Finn being gone, but they don’t have him, or the others. They’ve taken it as just one more reason not to compromise.”

“There was no news on where he might be?” asked Kane.

“None that Indra was going to share, no,” said Chancellor Griffin. “If they had him, we’d know. As soon as _we_ have him again, they’ll take him from us. For now...”

“We’re back where we started,” finished Kane. “No peace until the boy dies. Lincoln was right.”

There didn’t seem to be anything to add to this grim pronouncement, so with barely more than a few gestures and a word they set off again back to Camp Jaha. Byrne wondered what they would do when they got there, and wondered if even Kane or the Chancellor knew. Start making preparations for an attack? Hope that Finn might return and then turn him over to the enemy? It seemed to Byrne after the display in the field that this could only end now in bloodshed, one way or another, and there was something perversely comforting about that knowledge. Politics, schemes, misdirection and ethical dilemmas – that wasn’t easy ground for her. But she had taken an oath to protect the people of the Ark, and even if there _was_ no Ark anymore, she still had a gun in her hand and a camp full of people who relied upon her to keep them safe. If the boy couldn’t be found, if the grounders attacked...then she would take her last breath defending those people. And defending her Chancellor, for whom she had a growing respect.

Lost in these thoughts, Byrne had taken up a habitual place at the head on the group, with Miller off to her side, both of them automatically scanning the surrounding forest as they walked. Kane brought up the rear with Chancellor Griffin, and after a few minutes of walking in silence Byrne heard him say quietly:

“Are you alright?”

Byrne saw Miller catch her eye, and the two of them sped up slightly by silent mutual agreement, increasing the distance between them and the pair walking behind. Unfortunately, there was only so far they could go while still being safe...and the whole _point_ was that they should remain within earshot of each other, so in the quiet of the forest they could still hear every word of the conversation behind them.

“Fine,” said Chancellor Griffin. “She didn’t even draw blood. I think she wanted to scare us, that’s all.”

“It worked,” said Kane.

There was a moment of pause in which the only sound from behind was the crunching of leaves underfoot. Byrne could almost see them in her mind’s eye, walking along determinedly not looking at each other.

“Please don’t do that again, Abby,” Kane said quietly.

“You’re one to talk,” said Chancellor Griffin. “You did the exact same thing. Went off by yourself on some slim chance you could broker peace.”

“I’m far more expendable than you.”

“The hell you are.”

“You’re a _doctor._ And Clarke—”

“Is out there risking her life as we speak. If you think I won’t do the same...I’m not going to hide behind our walls while an army waits outside to slaughter us all. If there is _any_ other way then I have to find it. I’m the _Chancellor_ , Marcus. I swore to protect these people.”

“That doesn’t mean you can take personal responsibility for everything they do,” said Kane. “Finn Collins killed those grounders, and _you_ getting yourself killed by grounders isn’t going to even the score. I...what’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” said Chancellor Griffin. “Just that Indra said almost exactly the same thing.”

“Was that before or after she held a knife to your throat?” said Kane.

“I had to _try_ , Marcus.”

There was another silence, this one longer than the last. They were almost at Camp Jaha now, the vast curve of the fallen station just becoming visible in the distance through the trees.

“I know,” said Kane finally, and there was something in his voice that Byrne had never heard before, something warm, poised between exasperation and fondness. “I know you did. Just... _please_ don’t do it again.”

If Chancellor Griffin made any reply at all, it wasn’t in words, as they spent the rest of the journey back to camp in silence, walking towards a future more uncertain than ever before.


	2. Sleep - Jackson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (set between seasons 2 and 3)

It was just a couple of weeks after the events at Mount Weather that Kane walked into medical one evening, when Jackson was working a late shift alone. That in itself was unusual enough to give Jackson pause; any issues with medical Kane would naturally discuss with Abby, and messages would get passed along, so he himself didn’t usually have much direct contact with the man. Which suited him just fine. Unless Kane had somehow ripped out the stitches in his leg – and he didn’t _look_ like a man bleeding heavily from an arterial wound right now – there wasn’t any reason for him to be here.

Jackson’s feeling of foreboding only increased as Kane approached him, but he pretended to be engrossed in the chart he was reading and vaguely hoped the man might see he was busy and go away again.

No such luck. Kane stopped and waited patiently until Jackson was forced to stop examining his chart and look up enquiringly.

“Something I can help you with?” he said, trying to sound more confident then he felt.

“I wanted to speak to you about Abby,” said Kane.

Remembering all the times in his life so far he had heard Kane say something along those lines, Jackson instinctively tensed. He tried to remind himself that Abby could hardly have broken any laws now that she was Chancellor _herself_ , but there was a small part of him that privately suspected Abby Griffin could manage to get into trouble no matter the circumstances.

“Yes?” he said, as neutrally as possible, but when he turned he saw that Kane looked worried and slightly uncertain, rather than angry.

“She hasn’t been sleeping well,” he said.

Jackson managed with some difficulty not to raise his eyebrows at this, but something must have shown in his face because Kane added quickly:

“I mean she’s _told_ me she’s not sleeping well. And it’s obvious she hasn’t been sleeping enough in the first place.”

Well, Jackson couldn’t in good conscience disagree with that. You’d have to be blind not to notice the dark shadows under Abby’s eyes, the distracted air with which she spoke sometimes, the strange hours she kept. But he had worked under Abby Griffin for a long time, and his sense of loyalty rebelled at the idea of criticising her to someone else, especially Kane.

“I’m sure Chancellor Griffin knows what she’s doing,” he replied, deliberately putting a slight emphasis on the word ‘Chancellor’. “She knows how to handle a busy schedule.”

“I don’t doubt her ability,” said Kane. “She’s an excellent Chancellor. I’m just concerned she’s trying to do too much.” He hesitated slightly before continuing. “With Clarke gone she’s trying to distract herself with everything else, working so hard she barely stops to eat or sleep. We’ve both seen that happen before. Everything she does for this camp is admirable, but she needs to take care of herself as well. She’s no good to anyone if she runs herself into the ground with exhaustion.”

He dragged his hand distractedly through his hair and Jackson regarded him steadily, wondering if he had already had this same conversation with Abby herself. He could only imagine what the result must have been.

“Could you talk to her?” said Kane suddenly. “She listens to you.”

Jackson was torn between being flattered at the idea that he had any influence over Abby at all, and slightly irritated at _Kane_ of all people expressing concern over her wellbeing. It was more than a little hypocritical for the man who had tried to have Abby thrown out of an airlock less than a year ago to be fussing about whether she was getting enough sleep. Kane was _right_ of course, but that didn’t make his interference any less patronising, or his feelings for Abby any less obvious.

Jackson was aware that he himself was a little jealous, and that didn’t help matters.

“I’ll talk to her,” he said, deciding to take the moral high ground for Abby’s sake. “I might be able to persuade her to leave more of medical to me now she has so many other duties as well.”

“Thank you,” said Kane, with such genuine feeling that Jackson felt slightly ashamed. Perhaps it was no bad thing to have someone else looking out for Abby, at that.

“She’s my friend as well as my Chancellor,” he said, making an effort to sound more sympathetic. “I worry about her too.”

Kane looked a little surprised at this sudden show of fellow feeling, but nodded. “I’m glad,” he said. “She relies on you more than anyone. I’m glad she still has you here to take care of her.”

“You too,” said Jackson, and to his delight Kane now looked almost embarrassed.

“Yes, well...” he said gruffly. “Thank you for...thank you.”

He turned and left the room quickly, leaving Jackson looking thoughtfully after him. It was pretty common knowledge that Kane was a bit sweet on their Chancellor (a turn of phrase Jackson had heard someone use that seemed as apt as anything) but he wondered if there was really something more serious going on between them. He couldn’t imagine that Abby would ever...

But then, who knew? Even having known her for most of his life, the things Abby said and did still surprised him on a daily basis. For all Kane’s belief that she relied on him more than anyone – he felt a tiny glow of pride at that – he still found it difficult to know what she was thinking a lot of the time.

When it came to Kane, strangely, Jackson felt that he was on surer ground. The man obviously had feelings for Abby, and whatever he might say it was clearly something more than friendship, or even guilt for what he’d done to her in the past. The way he looked at her sometimes was _not_ subtle.

Jackson found himself feeling slightly sympathetic, even in spite of everything Kane had done. It was impossible, he thought, to be around Abby Griffin for any length of time and not fall a _little_ bit in love with her.


	3. A Casual Arrangement - Callie Cartwig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (set pre-season one)

Marcus had only been in Callie’s room for about a half hour, but he was already pulling on his clothes, preparing to leave.

That in itself wasn’t unusual. Neither of them were sentimental, and Marcus Kane was a busy man. They both knew what this was, and never tried to make it anything more – it was one of the reasons this thing between them worked.

What _was_ unusual though was the tense, awkward silence that now reigned, and the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Callie stood looking out of the little window in her wall, though there wasn’t much to see at the moment, just endless stars. She had thrown on a large old shirt that came down to her knees – she wasn’t planning on leaving again tonight but it had felt weird to be standing here naked, under the circumstances.

Marcus cleared his throat behind her, making Callie turn.

“I didn’t—” he began, but Callie suddenly realised that, whatever he was about to say, she really didn’t want to hear it.

“It doesn’t matter,” she interrupted. “It was good. As always. Let’s leave it at that.” She hesitated, and then, because it needed to be said: “I won’t say anything to her, you know that.”

Marcus nodded slightly. “There was an emergency council meeting, earlier,” he said quietly. “That’s why...she...it was on my mind.”

“Right,” said Callie. “As her friend, I’m going to ask you to stop thinking about her like that.”

“I _don’t_ —”

“As _your_ friend,” Callie interrupted, “I’m going to tell you again that it doesn’t matter.” She walked over and touched him lightly on the shoulder, a more tender gesture than either of them were used to. “Just...try not to let it get to you too much, okay?”

Marcus looked slightly stunned, although whether that was due to what she had just said or the hand on his shoulder, she couldn’t tell. Perhaps he was just surprised she would openly call him a friend.

“I should go,” he said finally. “It’s getting late.”

“Of course.” Callie tried to keep her expression neutral and polite, unsure whether to smile would make Marcus feel as though she were in some way mocking him. But he showed no signs of being angry or defensive as he pulled on his jacket and boots, just slightly lost. He didn’t quite meet her eyes as he muttered a few words of goodbye and left, closing the door behind himself and leaving Callie standing alone in her empty room, still half dressed and not sure how to feel.

That was that, then. With any luck things would just be awkward for a little while and then she and Marcus would just fall back into the same old pattern they were used to and forget the entire thing.

Theirs was an informal, ill defined relationship, of the kind which were common enough on the Ark. Sometimes they went to her place, sometimes they went to his. Sometimes, when they were both busy with work, a long time would go by when they would barely see each other at all, and then a casual comment would be made, an open invitation, and they would arrange to meet up again with no further explanation needed. It was easy, uncomplicated. They were discreet, but not secretive. There was certainly no _rule_ against their kind of casual physical relationship, thank god – Callie could only imagine how Marcus and his Guard would try and enforce _that_ one.

She went to have a shower and get cleaned up before bed, picking up and folding her clothes that had gotten strewn around the floor earlier. Marcus had forgotten a sock, she noticed, in his haste to leave, but as there was no way she could discreetly return it to him tomorrow without looking like she was making some kind of a point, he’d just have to get it next time he came around.

Assuming there _was_ a next time, now.

Callie hoped he wouldn’t decide not to see her again out of embarrassment, or some kind of misplaced pride. As it was, the arrangement suited them both well. She had never been interested in marriage or children or really any kind of committed relationship, but she enjoyed sex, and Marcus was an attractive man who wasn’t a close enough friend to risk things becoming too complicated. As far as she could tell – neither of them were really the type to discuss this sort of thing in depth – it was much the same for him.

Well...with one notable difference. The truth was that Callie had been good friends with Abby Griffin for her whole life, and Callie had gotten to know Marcus Kane better than most in the past few months, and those two facts combined meant she had developed some pretty shrewd theories on exactly _why_ Marcus hadn’t ever paired off with someone on more than a casual basis. With his respected position and his good looks he was popular enough with women, and although it was possible he just wasn’t interested in that sort of relationship, as Callie herself wasn’t, the much more obvious explanation was that the one person he actually _wanted_ was out of his reach.

Which was why what happened tonight wasn’t a surprise so much as a confirmation of long held suspicions. You could write off things like the way Marcus turned to look at Abby whenever she passed him in the corridor, the way he would instinctively snap to attention when her name was mentioned in passing, the way he was constantly butting heads with her over every little issue, letting her get under his skin like no-one else could, or the way he would _constantly_ bring her up in conversation without even seeming to realise what he was doing.

But crying out her name in bed was a pretty good indication that he had feelings for her beyond reasonable professionalism.

Callie felt like she probably _should_ be insulted, but mainly she just felt sorry for Marcus. Abby Griffin was only five months a widow, still as devoted to Jake as she ever had been, and even if that _hadn’t_ been the case Marcus was so far from her type that he might as well have been another species. Those two _had_ been friends once, but these days...well, Abby knew that Callie had been sleeping with him, and Callie got the clear feeling that she didn’t approve and thought her best friend deserved better. Generally the two women avoided the subject, because they both know it would almost certainly lead to an argument. Which was a pretty good indication of _Abby’s_ feelings about Marcus Kane these days.

It was ironic, in kind of a sad way, that the firmest evidence Callie had yet discovered for Marcus Kane being at heart a decent man – someone who always put the happiness of others above his own – was something she would never be able to share with Abby.

Still, it wasn’t her job to defend him.

Callie sighed as she slipped into bed, and drifted off eventually into an uneasy sleep, feeling guilty and not really being sure why.


	4. Understanding - Lexa

Guards flanked Kane as he was brought into Lexa’s  tent, but his hands were no longer tied, and the two warriors took up positions at the entrance, letting the man walk freely around inside. They were there to prevent him from leaving rather than to protect Lexa from attack – she was more than capable of doing _that_ herself, and it had become clear to her over the past few days that Kane had no intentions of that kind anyway.

The chair where Lexa sat was not quite her throne in Polis, but was still raised a little off the ground, enough to clearly mark her as Commander. She spent little time sitting on it, preferring to be discussing strategy at the war table with the leaders of the clans, or walking amongst the camp as a visible presence, but today she could do nothing but wait.

Indra shifted slightly beside her as Kane approached, and although Lexa couldn’t see her expression, she knew it wouldn’t be anything but a suspicious glare. Indra had more reason than most to hate Skaikru, and disliked the idea of having one of them in their midst. Kane, to his credit, ignored this open hostility, and kept his eyes respectfully on Lexa.

“I heard you’ve offered a truce to my people,” he said, as he came to a stop in front of her.

“I have,” said Lexa. “And I assume you’re aware of the terms I set out?”

Kane nodded, but made no comment. He knew that one of his people had massacred half a village, and even if he _had_ been foolish enough not to realise that the crime must be answered for, he would have heard of their plans for the boy Finn from others in the camp by now.

“Clarke has agreed to convey our terms to your people, and to your Commander,” said Lexa. “We await their answer.”

It had been a stalling tactic, Lexa knew full well. If Clarke had been willing to hand over the murderer she would have said so immediately, so eager was she for this alliance. Hardly surprising, when an army camped on her doorstep, but it seemed her willingness to do whatever it took to protect her people had limits after all.

“I haven’t met your Commander,” continued Lexa. “My dealings have been with Clarke, and with yourself.” She inclined her head to Kane, affording him a respect she need not have done in front of the guards. He was a prisoner after all, as he well knew. Her decision to treat him more as an ambassador and a source of information rather than simply having him killed had certainly proven useful, but he had never been allowed to forget his position.

“I wish to know what you can tell me about your leader,” said Lexa. “I’ve been informed that the word you use is ‘Chancellor’, and that the woman who currently holds the title is the mother of Clarke, but little else.”

“I’ll answer any questions I can, of course,” said Kane.

Lexa nodded curtly. “Your Chancellor then,” she said, getting to the point immediately. “How well do you know her?”

“I’ve known Chancellor Griffin for my whole life,” said Kane. “She’s a friend.”

“And she is a great warrior?” asked Lexa.

“Not a warrior at all. A healer.”

“A healer?” Skaikru were strange in many ways, that she knew, but for the first time since they had come into contact with them Lexa was genuinely surprised. “And she doesn’t fight at all?”

“It isn’t our way to take leaders from the strongest in battle,” said Kane. “We choose those who are good at making decisions, those who listen to their people and can be trusted to do what’s best for them.”

“And she does that?”

It seemed to Lexa that Kane hesitated for a split second, but when he replied his voice was sure. “She does.”

At this point, Indra suddenly spoke up, for the first time since Kane had been brought into the tent.

“A small woman with brown hair,” she interjected, speaking in English for Kane’s benefit. “She wears a ring on a chain.”

“Yes,” said Kane, looking unsure whether to be pleased at Indra finally acknowledging his presence, or surprised at her words. “That’s her. You’ve seen her?”

Indra ignored the question and turned back to Lexa, reverting back to Trigedasleng. “ _She was the one who brought Linc—the Reaper back from the dead, Heda,”_ she said. “ _I had my sword at her throat not a few hours ago.”_

  _“I remember,”_ replied Lexa testily. _“Speak English, Indra, we can hardly forge an alliance with Skaikru if they can’t understand a word we say.”_

She turned back to Kane, who had been watching the exchange with obvious apprehension. “Indra tells me your Chancellor was the woman who risked her sword and brought a dead man back to life in front of my eyes today.”

For the first time, Kane looked like he was suppressing a smile. “That sounds like her,” he said.

“A great healer indeed,” said Lexa. “She gave no indication of her position at the time, which speaks well of her wits. And warrior or not, she obviously doesn’t lack for courage. Will she lead the sky people into war with us, I wonder?”

“Only if you give her no other choice,” said Kane. “I know that isn’t what she wants.” He regarded her steadily, the implication in his words clear. He was no fool – he must know by now that it wasn’t what Lexa wanted, either.

“Will she give up the murderer Finn, then?” said Lexa. “Clarke gave me no answer.”

“I don’t know,” said Kane. “I think she might, if it came to that. But...”

“Speak your mind.”

“It may not be her choice alone,” admitted Kane. “And she takes her role as a protector of her people seriously. Finn is still a child in her eyes, and she’s a mother as well as a leader.”

“I see. Would she offer her own life in place of the boy then?”

“No!”

Even Kane himself looked surprised at the vehemence of his response. “That’s out of the question,” he added, in a rather more level tone. “No-one else...we don’t let people take punishments for others. It’s against our laws.”

“And ours,” said Lexa. “Only the boy can die for what the boy did.” She leaned forward, and fixed Kane with an appraising look. “So tell me, what did _she_ do?”

“I’m...sorry, I don’t understand the question,” said Kane.

“Your Chancellor. You had her lashed, soon after you arrived. I assume there was a reason.”

Kane flinched as if struck by a physical blow, and his face visibly paled. “How did you know that?” he said, clearly making an effort to keep his voice calm.

“The _Commander_ asks the questions,” cut in Indra sharply.

“We have had people watching your camp since you arrived, naturally,” said Lexa. “And the man you had lead you to me heard a great deal while he was your prisoner.” She gave a humourless smile. “You should ensure your guards are more careful in what they say around an unknown enemy. I’ll ask you again – why was your Chancellor punished in this way?”

If there was some dissention in the Sky People’s camp, it could be very useful to know.

“She broke the law,” said Kane, still looking shaken. “She...made a choice that she had no authority to make at the time, and acted against orders. She believed she was doing the right thing.”

It was a vague answer, and he was clearly keeping something back, but Lexa didn’t see that the specifics were important so she didn’t press for details. Instead she said:

“ _You_ were in charge at the time, I understand?”

“I was,” said Kane.

“It was _your_ orders she disobeyed?”

“Yes.”

 “So you had her humiliated and beaten in front of her people.”

Kane’s face was white. He looked deeply uncomfortable. “Yes,” he repeated.

“Even though you respect her as a leader, and consider her a friend. Even though it would not and _could_ not change what she had done.”

 “Yes.”

“Because justice was more important than the needs of one individual,” said Lexa. “Because your people had to see that actions have consequences and that no crime goes unpunished. Because to make exceptions and appear weak in times of strife only leads to anarchy. That is why you did it.”

There was a long pause before Kane spoke again, and when he did, his voice was very quiet.

“Yes,” he said. “That’s why I did it.”

“Then our ways are not so different, Kane of the Sky People,” said Lexa. “I’m sure you’re right that your _Heda_ won’t like what must be done, but she _will_ understand, as she understood what you did to her. _Jus drein jus daun_. The boy must pay for his crimes, as must we all.”

Kane nodded, though whether it was in agreement or simply to show he had understood her point, Lexa couldn’t say. “Let me talk to Abby—I mean Chancellor Griffin,” he said. “Maybe I can persuade her...”

Indra made a sceptical noise.

“She...all of them, may not see the situation as you do,” continued Kane, now a touch desperately. “They’ll be frightened and looking for a way out. But if I can just speak to them, maybe I can make them understand that this alliance _can_ work. Maybe we can find some compromise.”

He glanced at Indra and then stepped forward, his hands together, almost pleading.

“There has to be a way to resolve this,” he said. “I’ll come back afterwards, if that’s what you want. I’ll swear it.”

“There’s no need.” Lexa waved a hand. “Go. I have riders outside the gates of your camp awaiting your Chancellor’s decision. If she gives up the boy then you will be returned to your people unharmed as our truce begins. If she does not, then we prepare for war, and you will be returned to your people to die alongside them.”

“Thank you,” said Kane, looking slightly stunned at this sudden reprieve as the guards at the entrance of the tent moved forwards at Lexa’s gesture, and swiftly escorted him out.

When he was gone, Lexa allowed herself to relax a little, mulling over what she had just heard in an unsatisfied frame of mind. She didn’t regret deciding to release Kane – the man had been nothing but cooperative, and it would be as well for the Sky People to see that she was capable of mercy as well as strength. But what he had told her didn’t seem to bode well for their acceptance of her terms for the truce, and in many ways it raised more questions than it answered. The leadership of the Sky People seemed fractured and uncertain, and that wasn’t what you looked for in a potential ally.

Lexa sighed. “Speak, Indra,” she said. “You clearly have something to say.”

Indra, who had been silently exuding an air of great displeasure for the last ten minutes or so, spoke in a clipped voice.

“Kane spoke of compromise,” she said. “There can be none. Either the boy is handed over to us, or they will all be killed. That is the only way this will be... _resolved_.”

“And that is what I have told them,” said Lexa. “As you heard.”

“But you also suggested that their _Chancellor_ might take his place,” said Indra. “Leader or not, her death will not bring justice, Commander. She _cannot_ be allowed to take his place. You know that.”

“Of course I know that.” Lexa resisted the urge to snap. Indra’s lack of subtlety could be tiresome at times. “I had no intention of making such a deal. I wanted to see if _he_ would. It seems not.”

“He’s loyal to his leader,” said Indra grudgingly, looking slightly mollified at her answer.

Lexa frowned. “Clarke is their true leader,” she said absently. “A blind woman could see that much. Her mother is already taking orders from her.”

Indra made a derisive snort that nonetheless wasn’t quite disagreement. Lexa ignored it, still looking thoughtfully in the direction Kane had been taken.

“Tell me Indra,” she said finally, “why do _you_ think a man who clearly doesn’t lack for courage would simply walk away from being Commander of his people? What would it take to make almost certain death at the hands of a known enemy seem a preferable fate?”

“I don’t know,” said Indra, managing to indicate quite clearly with her tone that she didn’t much care, either.

“You’re not curious? He was willing to bleed himself to death in a cell for the sake of this alliance, but he seems to think his people would rather go to war with us than see a murderer face the same fate.” Lexa frowned. “Blood must have blood,” she said, almost to herself. “They punish their guilty as we do. So what did _he_ do, I wonder, that he believes only his blood can absolve?”

“You take a great interest in Kane, considering you just released him,” said Indra. “And their Chancellor, and her daughter too. Are these people really so worthy of your time, Commander?”

“They are the ones who speak for their people, and will choose how they act from here,” said Lexa. “We would be wise to understand what we can of them.” She gave Indra a small, humourless smile. “Know your enemy is the first rule of war.”

“I thought you intended Skaikru to be our allies?” said Indra, drily.

Lexa accepted the point with a nod, but did not reply. Indra was an exceptional warrior and hid very sharp wits behind a short temper, but she was also a woman of practicalities, with no time for politics. To her, Skaikru would either submit, or they would not. They would become allies, or they would remain enemies. In the meantime, the uncertainty merely served to increase her irritation at the whole situation.

Lexa, however, was not just a warrior; she was the Commander. Part of that burden was to strive to see what others could not. She had united the clans in a way no Commander before her had done, and she saw now in the arrival of Skaikru an opportunity that no Commander before her ever had. These people were strange, dangerous, but had already proven themselves powerful in ways none of them could have imagined. To simply exterminate them all...it would be an achievement, but it would also be a _waste_. To harness that power, to _understand_ them – that was the key.

She had gained some understanding in the cell with the two men who had been her first encounter with Skaikru. She had gained still more understanding in her dealings today with the one they called Clarke, who led her people even if she didn’t realise it herself yet. Speaking to Kane over the past few days, careful as he was, had been illuminating as well. Little by little, the strangers who had literally dropped into their midst became clearer to her, and as their strengths and weaknesses were revealed, Lexa made careful note of both.

When she had suggested taking the life of their Chancellor, for example, she had noted that the look on Kane’s face had been remarkably similar to the one on Clarke’s when she had been told that the murderer Finn would have to die to seal their alliance. Kane might be careless of his own life, but there were clearly some he valued far more. That too was understanding, of a kind, though it remained to be seen if it would be of any use in the future.

Love was weakness, Lexa knew, and as such, though the leaders of Skaikru had shown courage, they had shown considerable weakness as well.

It only remained to be seen if they would allow it to destroy them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing from Lexa's POV was pretty hard, so I hope it comes across ok
> 
> thank you to everyone who had left kudos and comments on this fic so far! I really appreciate it :) I have a few more chapters planned in my head anyway but if anyone has any suggestions for character POVs to do then just let me know ;)


	5. Night Shift - Sinclair

Sinclair had been looking for Chancellor Griffin for some time, and so when he finally found her sitting at a table with Raven in the mess, he made a beeline over to them, in spite of his usual misgivings about letting business interfere with much needed down-time. It was getting very late, so the room was mostly empty, with only a couple of people about, mostly sitting and chatting quietly. Things had been...peaceful, in Arkadia recently. Although things were never exactly _quiet_ when you were Chief Engineer, the improvement in general atmosphere still made a difference even to Sinclair’s mood, and it made a nice change from the chaos they had faced since coming to the ground.

It was hard to believe they had made it to this point. No more fighting, no more running, no more terrible sacrifices and impossible choices. Just a lot of honest hard work to be done and a camp full of people willing to do what it took to make a new life for themselves. Now there was time and space for people to just sit around and talk. To catch up with friends, to chew over the day’s work, to have a drink at the end of a long shift, just as they used to do back on the Ark.

Sinclair approached Raven and Abby a little self consciously – he didn’t want to intrude on two of the handful of people in Arkadia who usually had even less time to relax than he did – but they both greeted him gladly.

“Chancellor, I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said. “I’ve been wanting a word with you about the generators? It can wait if you’re busy.”

“Nah, she’s all yours, Chief,” said Raven cheerfully, getting up from the table a little unsteadily. “I’m going to bed anyway. Night, Abby.”

It was unusual for Raven not to stick her nose into every engineering project going, but Sinclair knew her well enough to note the alcohol induced good mood, and when she yawned widely he could smell her breath from where he sat. Doubtless in the morning she’d have a hell of a hangover and come bugging him about the generators anyway – he wouldn’t put it past her to solve the problems they were having in her sleep – but for now she was tired enough not to care. He watched her walk away with a mixture of fondness and regret, trying to remember the last time he had seen Raven would smile like that when she was sober.

“So what can I do for you?” said Abby, as he slid into the seat opposite her at the table. “Don’t tell me – something exploded again?”

This seemed oddly irreverent for Abby when she was in Chancellor mode, and there was something in her voice that made Sinclair pause.

“Are you...alright?” he said cautiously.

“Getting better by the minute,” said Abby cheerfully, lifting her cup in a kind of mock salute.

Sinclair tried not to grin. “You’re drunk, Chancellor,” he said.

Abby slapped her hand firmly against the table. “Yes I am!” she said. “It’s been years, but I think I’m getting the hang of it again pretty good. So lay it on me. What’s gone wrong now?”

Sinclair hesitated. “Well I was going to ask you about...it doesn’t matter.” He could see that Abby’s attentive expression was belied by the slightly glazed look in her eyes. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Stay then, have a drink,” said Abby agreeably.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink for the both of us,” said Sinclair. “Are you celebrating?”

Abby shook her head. “The other thing,” she said.

“Oh. Maybe I will join you then.”

Abby passed him what was presumably Raven’s half-full cup without further prompting, and Sinclair took a cautious swig. The alcohol burned his throat, but was at least fairly tasteless. He wasn’t much of a drinker himself, but if Abby wasn’t celebrating anything then she could only be drinking to drown her sorrows, and there was no way he was going to let her do that alone.

Sinclair wasn’t much of a talker either, believing that actions spoke louder than words most of the time. Abby didn’t seem inclined to conversation right now, having slipped into a contemplative silence, so they sat there together without speaking, sipping from the metal cups and watching the few other people still scattered about the room. It was oddly calming, in a way. Sinclair couldn’t remember the last time he had sat and had a drink with Abby – or with anyone, for that matter. There always seemed to be so much to do these days. Though he was very much aware how lucky he was to be one of the few to survive to see the ground, Sinclair did miss the Ark sometimes. Most of the problems they had faced up there, he knew how to fix. Down here...he thought of Raven again, and took another gulp of his drink.

He was wondering if he should try and talk to Abby anyway about what was bothering her, when a shadow loomed over the table and made him glance up. It was probably a completely irrational thing, but even now Councillor Kane had a way of making Sinclair feel like he had done something wrong.

Well, not _Councillor_ Kane any more, he supposed. These days he seemed to be just ‘Kane’ to most people, but old habits died hard and Sinclair still instinctively felt that the casual atmosphere had disappeared with the man’s arrival. He found himself sitting up a little straighter in his chair.

Abby, however, merely sighed, as if this were something she had been expecting.

Kane was looking down at her, his expression inscrutable. “Abby,” he said.

“Marcus,” replied Abby, with a slight hint of mockery.

There was a meaningful pause, and Sinclair looked away, suddenly a little embarrassed. The way Kane and Chancellor Griffin looked at each other sometimes felt so intimate that it was easy to feel like you were intruding just by being present.

 “You’ve been avoiding me,” said Kane. His voice wasn’t accusatory, just a statement of fact.

“You’d think it’d be easier now we’re not in an enclosed space station,” said Abby. “Yet here you are.”

Sinclair tried not to listen, and occupied his mind instead with thinking of places he’d rather be right now than here. Like, for example, out in the middle of the woods surrounded by hungry wolves. Sinclair had never seen a wolf, except in pictures, but he felt like he could probably handle two or three if it meant he didn’t have to hear this conversation.

“I’m worried about you,” said Kane quietly.

“Don’t be,” said Abby. “I’m holding up just _fine_ , aren’t I?” There was a horrible bitterness in her voice that didn’t suit her at all. “Everyone says so.”

Kane sighed. “Abby, you know that Clarke—”

“I don’t want to talk about Clarke,” said Abby. “I don’t want to _talk_ at all. I just want to _forget_.” She didn’t sound angry any more, almost pleading. “Just for one night I want to forget about everything, Marcus.”

“And you thought getting paralytically drunk was the best way to do that?” said Kane.

“No, I didn’t,” said Abby, her voice low, “but the more _fun_ way is pretty much off limits, so this will have to do.”

There was a silence.

Azgeda, thought Sinclair, his eyes fixed on his now empty cup. The Ice Nation would be a nice place to visit this time of year. Cold, snow, lots of bloodthirsty warriors. He would quite happily be there right now.

“You should go to be—to sleep,” said Kane finally. “I think you’ve had enough. Get some rest, and things will look better tomorrow.”

“You can’t give me orders,” said Abby, tetchily. “I’m the Chancellor here.”

“I’m not ordering you, I’m _asking_ you,” said Kane. “Please, Abby.”

Another pause.

“Stop it,” said Abby, with a touch of petulance. “Stop looking at me like that. It makes me want to do things I’m not allowed to do.”

Sinclair fumbled his cup and sent it clattering to the floor. To his great relief, the sudden sound at least seemed to remind Abby and Kane that he was still sitting there. Abby looked back down at the table, her face flushing, and Kane turned to Sinclair.

“Could you make sure Chancellor Griffin gets back to her room safely, Chief?”

“Of course,” said Sinclair, so thankful to have an excuse to go that he couldn’t even be annoyed at Kane’s high-handedness. “Come on Chancellor, I think the bar is closed for us.”

Abby glared at him – or rather, at a spot slightly to the left of him – but got up from the table with minimal stumbling and fell into step beside him as they made their way out of the mess. He could almost feel Kane’s eyes boring into their backs as they left.

Sinclair was grateful at least that Abby wasn’t so far gone she couldn’t walk in a fairly straight line as they made their way down the old Ark corridors. He had known her for long enough that he wouldn’t have minded lending her an arm to lean on, but it was getting late, and it would be pretty embarrassing if people saw them going to her room together arm in arm and got the wrong idea. It was bad enough the way people of Arkadia were already talking about the Chancellor’s supposed ‘close relationship’ with Kane, even if Sinclair himself was beginning to wonder if it _was_ only talk.

There had always been a certain amount of jokes and whispered speculation about the two of them, even on the Ark, though in Engineering Sinclair had only caught hints of it. But two people constantly bickering, getting in each other’s faces...two people who had been _friends_ , once upon a time, who had known each other for years...two people whose hostility was matched only by their shared stubbornness, their fierce will to make the other bend to their way...

They were both attractive people who couldn’t seem to leave each other alone. It was only natural that some might interpret the tension between them as sexual. For his part, Sinclair had never really seen it – Councillors Griffin and Kane had presented a chilly but united front in public, but from what he’d seen on a personal level they genuinely seemed to despise each other.

That was clearly _not_ the case anymore. The only thing that hadn’t changed, Sinclair reflected, was that they still seemed to have the ability to get under each other’s skin like no-one else could.

When they reached the entrance to Abby’s room, Sinclair stepped back to let her punch in the code for the door, something she managed to do after only a couple of tries. She leaned in the doorway for a moment and smiled at him.

“Goodnight Chief,” she said.

Sinclair smiled back. “Goodnight Abby. Try to—”

“I know, I know.” Abby waved an airy hand. “Get some sleep, drink plenty of water. I _am_ a doctor, y’know.”

“Sorry. I’ve got the nasty feeling I’ll have to answer to Kane if you show up tomorrow with a hell of a hangover.”

Abby frowned. “Marcus...” she muttered. “Marcus...is an _idiot_.”

“As long as he’s not in earshot, you’ll get no argument from me, Chancellor,” said Sinclair. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up the subject after all. But he couldn’t help but feel a _little_ curious along with everyone else.

“He’s always so...” Abby waved her hand vaguely again, apparently thinking that the rest of the sentence was self explanatory. “You know?”

“He cares about you,” said Sinclair, throwing caution to the wind on the basis that Abby might not remember this conversation tomorrow anyway.

“That just makes it _worse_ ,” said Abby. “He makes everything worse.” She frowned. “Except when he doesn’t.”

Sinclair couldn’t help but smile at this, but thankfully Abby yawned so widely at that moment that she didn’t notice.

“God, I’m so tired,” she murmured. “I’ll deal with Marcus in the morning.”

“I bet you will,” said Sinclair. “Go easy on him, okay Chancellor?”

Abby nodded vaguely. “Goodnight Chief,” she said.

“Goodnight Abby.”


	6. Unexpected Alliances - Thelonius Jaha

One of things about living your life in very close proximity to people was that you got to know them pretty well, whether you wanted to or not.

Thelonius Jaha, as Chancellor of the Ark, had made it his business to at least be able to recognise every one of his people by name, and that had been no small task. Even the Chancellor – perhaps _especially_ the Chancellor – didn’t have reason to interact with every person on every station, and there were some he would never have had any reason to speak to at all. Still, he had learnt all their names, though it had taken a lot of sleepless nights, because he felt it was the sort of thing a Chancellor should do. With the decisions he was often called upon to make, Thelonius knew he would never be able to please everyone, but at least he could acknowledge their existence, from the members of the Council to the lowliest farm tech.

One side effect of this was that he knew the name of every single person he had sent to their death in section seventeen.

Another was that when Marcus Kane knocked on his door, he knew right away who it was before even opening it. He recognised the knock, and he knew Kane well enough that the man was bound to come to speak to him after what he had done today.

True to form, Kane didn’t waste much time on pleasantries. Once he was inside and the door closed behind him, he turned to Thelonius with a grim expression.

“Diana Sydney?” he said, with a tone that spoke very clearly of his opinion on the newly sworn in Councillor.

Thelonius actually managed a smile. “The devil you know...” he said.

“She won’t be content with a Council position for long. You know she’ll be pushing for the Chancellor’s pin again as soon as she can.”

“Let her,” said Thelonius. “The people will decide.” He strolled over to the couch and took a seat, not surprised when Kane remained standing. The man never had been much good at relaxing even off duty. “We’re going to the ground, Kane – who knows what changes that will bring? Diana Sydney may well be the best choice for next Chancellor.”

Kane frowned. “You don’t really believe that.”

“No. But I do believe it isn’t up to me. For now, Diana is the right person at this time to keep the people calm as we work on the Exodus problem. She’s the best choice for Abby’s seat.”

Kane said nothing, but Thelonius had become quite adept at reading Kane’s silences too, over the years. “You disagree?” he said.

“Let’s just say I don’t believe we’ve traded up. Replacing Abby with Diana is a poor deal where the people are concerned.”

Thelonius nodded, conceding the point, thought it was one he was surprised to hear Kane make. “I would say that if the last few weeks have taught us anything, it’s that you and I don’t always know what’s best for our people,” he said. “But much though I admire what Abby Griffin achieved, she couldn’t remain on the Council after the crimes she committed. You of all people know that she’s lucky to still have her life. Anyone else in her position would have been floated.”

Kane frowned at this reminder of the flexibility of Ark justice, something Thelonius knew he had never been at ease with. Which was all the more interesting, considering the topic of their discussion.

“...on that subject,” Thelonius said, making sure to hold Kane’s gaze so that he might better read his expression. “You didn’t tell Abby that _you_ were the one who argued for her life to be spared.”

“No, I didn’t,” said Kane bluntly.

“In fact, it seemed to me that you were doing everything you could to give the impression that you _advocated_ for her execution.”

“You didn’t do anything to contradict me, I notice.”

Thelonius shrugged. “It’s not up to me to stop you if you’re determined to cast yourself as the villain of the piece, Marcus.”

At this, the corner of Kane’s mouth lifted slightly. It was clearly not the first time he had heard himself described in such terms.

“But, off the record, I would be interested to hear your motivation for doing it,” said Thelonius. “You never said _why_ you decided to argue her case.”

“I thought I made my reasons clear to the Council,” said Kane.

“You did. They were all very good reasons too.” Thelonius gave a wry smile. “And all of them were just as true last week when you were ready to float Councillor Griffin without a second thought. So what changed?”

Kane paused, clearly considering his reply. Thelonius couldn’t help but get the impression that he was trying to formulate the most appropriate response to give rather than simply choosing his words carefully, and felt a flicker of annoyance. Was it really such a difficult question to answer? After witnessing Marcus Kane break down at the Eden tree, he had seen the man retreat back behind the professional front he always so carefully preserved in public, and it was that professional front Thelonius found himself facing now. It was good, in a way – they needed respected members of the Ark like Kane to be seen to be in control – but on a personal level he found it grating. Thelonius didn’t like being lied to.

“Abby was right about the ground,” said Kane finally, his voice carefully neutral. “I was wrong.”

Thelonius frowned. “You didn’t know that at the time. The message from Raven only came _after_ the hearing.”

There was a long pause, and Thelonius sighed irritably. “Marcus, if there’s something you—”

“We _need_ her,” said Kane sharply. “That’s why.” And just like that it was there again – the chink in his armour, the little cracks in composure beginning to show. The real Marcus Kane creeping through.  “Not just her medical expertise,” he continued, “although I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I believe that is invaluable. We need _her._ We need people like Abby Griffin, now more than ever.”

Thelonius regarded him carefully. “Why?” he said.

 “Because we just _killed_ over three hundred of our own people,” said Kane grimly. Thelonius didn’t flinch, didn’t show any reaction to the statement, but he did feel the heavy weight of the words, as he did every time they were spoken aloud. The awful burden of their shared mistake.

“Those people were willing to die,” said Kane. “They were willing to sacrifice their own lives, to never see their families again in the hopes that they might buy those they loved just a little more time.” There was something almost rote about his words, Jaha noticed, as if he were talking to himself as much as anything. As if this were something Kane had already had to tell himself before thinking about convincing others. “...and so was Abby,” he continued. “She _knew_ she could be floated, and she did what she did anyway. If our people have a voice, it isn’t someone like Diana Sydney; it’s Abby. She saw the best in them when we only saw the worst. Just like Jake did. And they were both _right_ , all along.”

“You feel very strongly about this,” said Thelonius.

Kane looked taken aback, as if he hadn’t quite realised this himself. “You asked for my reasons, sir,” he said stiffly.

“You disapprove of Abby’s removal from the Council then?” said Thelonius.

“No. She broke the law, and there have to be consequences. But taking her position and taking her life are different things, and one of them is something I don’t believe we can afford to lose.”

Thelonius nodded, again conceding the point. “But you don’t want Abby to know you feel this way?” he said, prodding at the situation more out of curiosity than anything.

His use of the word ‘feel’ again was probably a step too far, as Kane now looked profoundly uncomfortable. Politics and friendship was always a dangerous mix, and perhaps Kane disliked the implication that his decision was based on his personal feelings rather than objective facts.

“I don’t want her to feel...indebted to me,” he replied, as though every word were being dragged from him unwillingly. “And I don’t see that it has any relevance, now the decision’s been made. The Council voted. The choice wasn’t mine alone.”

Kane sounded defensive, and obviously realised it, because he continued before there was a chance of reply: “I should be going, sir, I’m back on duty soon and the people are restless.”

Thelonius waved a vague gesture of acceptance. “Of course,” he said. It’s important to keep the peace now more than ever.” Impulse made him add: “It will be Unity Day soon, Marcus. Perhaps we should both give Diana Sydney a chance. This is after all a time for...unexpected alliances.”

Kane gave a terse nod and headed towards the door. When he had opened it however, he stopped briefly, and half turned.

“Whatever you might think of me Chancellor,” he said, “I have never floated _anyone_ without a second thought.”

There was an edge of bitterness in his voice that surprised Thelonius as much as the sudden unexpected return to what had been an offhand comment on his part. He regarded Kane for a long time before replying.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said.

He found himself staring at the door for a long time after Kane had left, as if by looking at the space where the man had stood he might gain some insight into the workings of his mind. Strange, how one could know people so well, and yet not know them at all. This was the second time in as many weeks that he had been completely surprised at the actions of Marcus Kane.

Thelonius could not help but think of the airlock when Kane talked of Abby. Even after everything that had happened since he’d been shot, the fallout from it still burned fresh on his mind. At the time he had been genuinely horrified at Kane’s willingness, even _eagerness_ , to float Abby Griffin – oh, he had understood the man’s _motivation_ well enough, but still...a strength not weakened by sentiment indeed. If Kane was willing to do something like that – to summarily execute someone he had worked beside for years, someone he had once considered a friend, just for trying to save a life – what _wouldn’t_ he be willing to do?

Of course they had all done worse; Thelonius himself had sentenced people to death for far less over the years. Sometimes the unthinkable had to be done to preserve order. But he wouldn’t have done that to _Abby,_ and if he had been asked a few weeks ago then he wouldn’t have thought Kane capable of it either, law or no law.

Then again, he wouldn’t have expected Abby to go rogue and broadcast her husband’s message either. The current situation was changing all of them, it seemed.

Still, Thelonius wasn’t sure which had surprised him more – that Marcus Kane had been willing to sacrifice Abby for the greater good, or that Marcus Kane would stand before the Council and plead for her life. It occurred to him that, as unpredictable as Abby had become, in many ways Kane was just as bad.

If only the two of them could stop fighting each other for five minutes, Thelonius thought, they might one day figure out that they actually had a lot in common.


	7. A Day Off - Bellamy Blake

It had been a really long time since Bellamy had been given a day off, and he wasn’t really sure what to _do_ with it.

It had been Gina’s idea, he suspected – she thought he worked too hard, and although he’d protested that they were _all_ working hard, she insisted that everyone else took a break occasionally and that surely Arkadia could do without him for an afternoon without falling apart. He hadn’t thought much of the conversation until this morning when Kane had told him he wasn’t on guard rotation all day, and everyone else he’d talked to had been suspiciously firm about refusing his offers of help with whatever they were doing.

Bellamy reflected that his girlfriend could be terrifyingly well organised sometimes. But hey, it _was_ kind of an interesting change to have nothing to do, especially on a nice day like this. And he would be lying if he said he wasn’t pleased to have some spare time to spend with Gina, especially since she had gone to all this trouble to get it for them.

So right now he was leaning against the outer wall of the camp, idly watching people go by in the sunshine and trying not to be bored out of his mind while he waited for Gina to show up when her own duties were finished. He had watched a kid playing in the dirt with his friends for a while before he was called inside by a woman who had ‘mom’ written all over her face, wiping his grimy hands surreptitiously on his shirt in a way that made Bellamy grin to himself. He had watched some old guy whose name he didn’t know hoeing some ground which was going to be used for a new vegetable plot. He had watched the guards change shifts and he had watched Sinclair and Raven arguing with a bunch of people about something too far away to hear, and mostly he had watched the sun crawl across the sky in the hopes that by looking at it enough he could speed up time and make Gina hurry up already.

Currently, he was watching the training range, where Kane was teaching their Chancellor how to shoot. At least, in theory that’s what they were doing – in practice it seemed to involve a lot of warm smiles and murmured conversation and Kane’s hand gently resting on Doctor Griffin’s waist. Bellamy wasn’t entirely convinced that she was any better at shooting than she had been when they started, but the two of them looked pretty happy, so maybe that was the most important thing. It was rare to see Clarke’s mom smile like that these days.

He felt a smile creep onto his own face as he watched them. It was really kind of sweet. He wondered what Clarke would think.

“Bellamy!”

Because his thoughts had drifted over to Clarke, for a moment Bellamy was sure it was her voice. But when he jerked around he saw Gina walking up to him, smiling.

“Hey, I yelled at you like five times,” she said. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” said Bellamy, leaning down and giving her a quick kiss hello. “I was miles away, sorry.”

Gina turned to see what he had been looking at and giggled. “They look like they’re enjoying themselves,” she said. “When are you going to teach _me_ how to shoot, Bell?”

 “You _know_ how to shoot, Gina,” Bellamy grinned. “You’re a better shot than I am.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” said Gina, and then immediately undermined her point by slipping her arm into his and kissing him swiftly on the cheek. “Anyway, I bet you a drink that Chancellor Griffin doesn’t really _need_ shooting lessons either.”

Bellamy chuckled. “Kane seems to think so.”

“Kane needs to get laid,” said Gina, matter-of-factly.

Bellamy let out a snort of laughter. “He _really_ does,” he said. “Although I could have done without that mental image.”

“It’s not like there’s a shortage of candidates,” said Gina. “Did you see the way that woman – what’s her name? Lila, I think? – was putting the moves on him yesterday?

“Oh, the engineer woman, right?” said Bellamy. “She’s got to be a good ten years younger than him.”

“Didn’t stop her,” said Gina. She put on a high pitched, sultry voice: “Oh let me give you a _personal_ tour of the improvements we’ve made, Councillor Kane. I’m sure you be verrryyy impressed.”

Bellamy grinned. “Was she doing that thing with her hair?”

“Yep. She’d undone the top two buttons of her shirt too.”

“Damn, and I missed it.”

Gina punched him lightly on the arm, and then, obviously pleased with her Lila impression, put on the voice again: “Oh what a _big_ shock baton you have, Councillor. You _must_ show me how to use it sometime.” She giggled, and continued in a more normal tone: “She’s fighting a losing battle anyway. She could have stripped naked and painted ‘Take me I’m yours’ on her chest and he probably wouldn’t have noticed. Too busy gazing longingly at Chancellor Griffin across the camp.”

 “He’s not very subtle, is he?” said Bellamy.

“It’s sort of sweet, but sort of idiotic,” said Gina. “He should just _do_ something about it.”

“Like what though?”

“I don’t know. Strip naked and paint ‘Take me I’m yours’ on _his_ chest?”

Both of them sputtered into fits of laughter.

“That’s _another_ mental image I really didn’t need,” grinned Bellamy. “I’m not gonna be able to look Kane in the eye now.”

“I’m pretty sure Chancellor Griffin wouldn’t mind though,” said Gina. “She does some gazing of her own, you know.”

“Then they’ll both work it out eventually,” said Bellamy. “Anyway, who knows? Maybe they’re already sleeping together, and they’re just trying to keep it private.”

“No way,” said Gina. “There’s no way they’d both be wound that tight if they were getting some on the regular. Have you _seen_ the way he looks at her? I’m surprised she doesn’t burst into flame.”

They both paused to observe the couple in question for a bit. Kane was adjusting Chancellor Griffin’s grip on her gun, his hands hesitating for a split second every time they went to touch hers. Bellamy and Gina were too far away to hear any of their conversation, but as they watched, Kane said something that made a noticeable flush appear on the Chancellor’s cheeks, the two of them looking at each other for just a  moment too long before breaking eye contact and turning back to the target.

“God, it’s like watching a train wreck in slow motion,” said Bellamy.

“Do you really think there’s already something going on between them?” said Gina, now sounding uncertain herself.

“I think if not then it’s only a matter of time. I heard someone actually _is_ taking bets, if you want in.”

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” said Gina. “I don’t want to jinx it for them. They’re cute together.”

Bellamy made a noise that was halfway between laughter and disgust, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s leave them to each other and go and enjoy our day off.”

The two of them turned and started to stroll back through Arkadia, hand in hand, enjoying the sunshine on their faces and the prospect of a free afternoon in each other’s company stretched happily out before them.

Behind them, Chancellor Kane and Doctor Griffin continued their lesson, oblivious to anything but each other.


	8. The Chancellor - Harper McIntyre

By the time the rover got back through the gates of Arkadia the sun was setting, and the sling around Harper’s arm was dark and crusted with blood. It hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as it looked, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t broken at least. Still. It _hurt._

The Chancellor came running out to meet them as they pulled in, which was something Harper was still getting used to. Her idea of a Chancellor was still pretty much what Jaha had been on the Ark – someone who had the power to lock you away and maybe float you if you did anything wrong, some distant authoritative figure to be respected and feared and avoided if at all possible. Doctor Griffin was about as far from being Harper’s idea of a Chancellor as you could get. She could still remember going to see Abby when she was a kid for medical check-ups, and it was hard to be intimidated by someone who had once signed off on you missing a whole day of school when you were eight even though you were totally healthy because you’d had a disastrous haircut and had a total meltdown at the thought of all your friends seeing it. You couldn’t imagine someone like that giving the order to float _anyone._

Chancellor Jaha had been the sort of person whose arrival always made you feel like you’d been caught red-handed. The sight of Chancellor Griffin hurrying towards them somehow made Harper instinctively feel that things were going to be alright.

“What happened?” Abby asked, her eyes darting between Harper’s arm and the exhausted, tense expression on Bellamy’s face as they both leapt down from the cab. “You weren’t supposed to back until tomorrow...your arm...”

She made as if to examine the injury, but Harper waved her off quickly. “It can wait,” she said. “You need to help Kane first.”

The effect of her words was immediate. Abby’s face froze, and Harper could swear she could see the colour drain from it.

“What—” she began, but her question was cut short as Lincoln and Miller appeared from around the back of the rover, carrying the stretcher with Kane on top of it. Harper could see heads starting to turn around the camp, distant murmurs of concern as people started to drift over to find out who was injured.

Abby’s concern for Harper was immediately forgotten as she darted to Kane’s side, twitching aside the blanket they had used to cover his mangled leg. Harper heard her sharp intake of breath.

“Get him inside now,” Abby said brusquely, clearly snapping into doctor mode. Miller and Lincoln started to carry the stretcher towards Medical, with the others hurrying alongside it. Protocol dictated that someone should stay and put the rover away, but Harper figured someone else could take care of that, and none of their team had a second to spare to care about the vehicle abandoned in the middle of camp, and the supplies yet unpacked from their abortive food run.

What happened?” asked Abby again, as they rushed along, and this time she actually got an answer.

“Panther,” said Lincoln succinctly.

“It went for me first,” said Harper, trying not to sound as shaky as she felt. “I didn’t even hear it.”

“Kane got it, but it got him first,” said Bellamy. “Pretty much laid open his leg.”

“It did a number on Harper’s arm too,” added Miller, out of breath from his burden, and Harper felt a sudden rush of gratitude towards him for making sure no-one forgot her own injury in the chaos.

“It only just caught me,” she said anyway, trying to toe the line between making it not sound like a big deal and also really hoping someone would make sure she could still use her damn arm after today at some point. “It’s already stopped bleeding.”

The implication hung in the air as they finally burst through the doors into Medical and set down Kane’s stretcher on the nearest bed. _His_ injury had clearly bled a lot – his clothes and the blanket were soaked with it, and his face was unusually pale. It was the same leg that had been injured in the bombing of Tondc, Harper knew, and although she wasn’t sure if that made the situation more serious or not, even with her limited knowledge it didn’t look good. The frantic journey back to camp had not been an experience she ever wanted to repeat.

Jackson hurried over as they set Kane down, and Bellamy gave him a quick repeat of the story as Abby tied up her hair quickly, pulling on a pair of latex gloves – a luxury courtesy of Mount Weather, but an unmistakably ominous sign. She leaned over Kane and touched his shoulder gently.

“Marcus,” she said, her voice calm but clear. “Can you hear me?”

Kane eyes opened a crack, thought he didn’t seem to be able to focus clearly. “Abby...” he murmured.

“That’s right,” she said. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay.” She nodded briefly to Jackson, who hurried off and returned with a syringe of something Harper assumed must be anaesthetic, but by the time he’d returned, Kane’s eyes had drifted shut again.

 “He’s been in and out since we started back,” said Miller.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” said Abby. “That’s to be expected.”

“Lincoln gave him something for the pain,” said Harper, realising as she said it that Lincoln himself had slipped out of the room as soon as he had been relieved of the stretcher, presumably to find Octavia. “It’s made him a bit...spacey.”

She had refused the herb herself, partly out of guilt and partly because she was a little wary of eating any weird drugs from the ground after the incident with those trippy nut things when they had first landed. Pain she could deal with. Fighting off invisible butterflies bursting out of her skin? Not so much.

Abby nodded. “The bleeding’s slowed,” she said to Jackson. “But I can’t tell the extent of the damage yet. It looks like it’s gone to the bone, but I don’t know if—”

She broke off as Kane stirred.

“Abby...” he muttered again.

“I’m here.”

Kane opened his eyes and smiled. “You have beautiful eyes.”

There was a brief pause, as everyone in the room tried to adjust their minds to make space for this somewhat out of the blue statement.

“Thank you,” said Abby calmly. Harper noticed a slight colour rise to her cheeks even as she nodded to Jackson with his syringe.

“And you have beautiful hair,” Kane said dreamily, his eyes flickering across her features, slightly unfocused. “And a beautiful smile.” His gaze drifted lower. “And beautiful—”

“ _Right_ , got it,” interrupted Abby firmly, as Harper collapsed into a fit of entirely inappropriate and slightly hysterical silent giggles, and even Bellamy looked as though he was restraining a smile with difficulty, in spite of the circumstances. “You need to go to sleep now, okay?”

Jackson slid the syringe into his unresisting arm as she said it, though Kane seemed too out of it already even to notice.

“You’re going to cut me open,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I...no, I’m actually going to sew up your leg,” said Abby. “No cutting, I promise.”

“I trust you,” Kane murmured, his eyes already closing again. “My Abby...”

There was a rather awkward silence, filled only by the deep, even sound of Kane breathing as he finally succumbed to the anaesthesia.

“We should get him high more often,” said Miller.

“We can take it from here, thank you,” said Abby pointedly, gesturing to Jackson, who wheeled over a tray of sterile instruments. “Harper, I’ll get someone to look at that arm as soon as I can. You two can go.”

“Well, as long as you have Jackson here as a chaperone,” muttered Miller under his breath as he and Bellamy turned to leave. Abby pretended not to hear, but Harper caught the smile on Jackson’s face as he bent to cut off the makeshift bandage that had been tied around Kane’s leg.

Harper turned away from the two doctors automatically, going to sit down on the next bed facing the room, on the basis that they’d probably have to remove some clothing to treat the wound. Even unconscious, Kane deserved _some_ privacy. She was glad of the decision when she heard a sharp intake of breath from behind her, and the sudden murmur of worried voices. She deliberately tried to tune them out, but she definitely caught the word ‘artery’. At one point Jackson hurried across the room to get more blood. Harper began to feel slightly woozy, and told herself firmly it was just her arm.

She was relieved when one of Abby’s assistants finally showed up to check out her arm, taking her into another room, and managed to grit her teeth and not cry out in pain as her own wounds were briskly swabbed with antiseptic and wrapped tightly in a bandage. Her arm was gonna be an ugly, bruised, unusable mess for a little while, but she didn’t actually need stitches, and as she had thought, nothing was broken. Just injured enough to be a pain in the ass, not injured enough to get much sympathy for being heroically wounded in battle. Damn.

Harper was just about to leave, figuring she’d check in on how Kane was doing later, when Abby appeared briefly, dropping her gloves in the bin and exchanging a few brief words in an undertone with the woman who had been treating Harper’s arm, who nodded and headed out on some task of her own.

“How are you feeling?” said Abby, stripping off her scrubs, which were stained quite abundantly with blood. Harper swallowed back the bile that rose instinctively in her throat – she wasn’t a wimp when it came to this sort of thing, but there was something really horrible in all that blood about the implication of what she had missed seeing in the other room. She would never be a doctor in a million years.

“Fine,” she replied, trying to sound offhand. “It was barely a scratch. How’s Kane?”

“He’ll be fine,” said Abby, smiling in a reassuring way that didn’t quite reach her tired eyes. “He won’t be able to walk for a little while, but it looked worse than it was.”

Harper wasn’t entirely sure _that_ was true, given what she’d seen and heard, but decided not to question it. At least she knew Abby wouldn’t lie to her if Kane were really still in danger, and the guilt she felt at his being injured while protecting her eased a little.

“I want you to stay here tonight,” said Abby, and as Harper started to protest, raised her hand to cut her off. “Just to be sure. I’ll check out your arm tomorrow morning and if it still looks okay then we have nothing more to worry about.”

Harper sighed, but was too tired to see the point in arguing further. Abby looked tired as well, and probably wasn’t in the mood to be second guessed. Anyway, it was sort of nice to have someone, well... _motherly_ , looking out for you. Embarrassing a thought though that was.

Once Abby had finished with her, Harper stripped down to her underwear wearily – a few months of living in close quarters in tents on Earth had cured her of any embarrassment about that sort of thing – and found a bed to sleep in. At least Medical was all but empty at night. Aside from Kane and herself, there was no-one who was bad enough hurt or ill enough to be here full time. Earth was like that – you either died or you survived. Long illnesses were not really a problem they had to deal with anymore, not least because they had fuck all in the way of medicine, beyond what they’d scavenged from Mount Weather. If something really _did_ go wrong with her arm, or Kane’s leg, what could Abby and Jackson really do about it, anyway?

Harper grimaced and tried to turn her mind to something else, like the barbequed panther meat she might actually get to eat tomorrow, if she were lucky. She hoped someone had thought to go back for it.

Just as she was about to drift off to sleep, she was disturbed by the sound of low voices from a little way away, and opened her eyes just a crack to see Abby and Jackson conversing quietly.

“...should know in the morning, one way or another, whether it will hold,” Abby was saying.

“And Harper?”

“Lucky to be alive too, under the circumstances, but I guess you could say that for all of us.” There was a bitterness to the Chancellor’s voice that surprised Harper. She’d never heard it before. “We knew sending out hunting parties would be dangerous—”

“But we had no choice,” finished Jackson. “We can’t grow enough food to sustain Arkadia yet, you said that yourself. Lincoln knew what he was doing. And they all volunteered.”

Abby let out a quiet laugh with no humour in it. “Of course they did,” she said. “They’re just kids. And Marcus...”

There was a pause. Both their faces were unreadable in the dim light. “Abby, you’re shaking,” said Jackson gently.

“I’m fine,” said Abby.

Harper saw Jackson reach out and put a hand on her arm. “He’ll be okay,” he said.

“I know. I _know_.” Abby sounded almost angry, and took a deep breath, visibly calming herself. “Get some sleep, Jackson. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things tonight.”

“You’re sure?”

“Go.”

Jackson nodded, and left. Harper quickly closed her eyes as Abby walked past her bed, not keen to let the Chancellor know she’d been eavesdropping. Still, she was probably too distracted to care anyway, right now. She was clearly worried about Kane, which wasn’t surprising. Those two were friends, or... _something._ Harper wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t really sure if Kane and Abby knew exactly what they were to each other either. She did know that half the camp thought they were already sleeping together, and the other half thought they _weren’t_ , but should get on with it already.

Mostly, Harper tried not to think about it at all. But there was something about the look on Chancellor Griffin’s face that made her feel oddly lonely, and that combined with the pain in her arm meant it took her a long time to drift off to sleep.

She woke up again in the middle of the night, her arm killing her, and made her way to the bathroom with increasing resentment that she had been forced to stay here in Medical, when she could have been much more comfortable drinking herself into a stupor with the others to dull the pain and then collapsing into her own bed. Maybe that was what Abby had been trying to prevent, come to think of it. Word had it that the Chancellor wasn’t overly keen on the common method of alcoholic self medication amongst the younger members of Arkadia.

Maybe if Chancellor Griffin loosened up a little, Kane would be in with a chance after all. Harper grinned to herself at the thought, remembering Kane’s own clumsy overtures under the influence.

As she made her way back through the dimly lit rooms of Medical to her bed, Harper made a little detour to check on Kane, if only to alleviate her earlier guilt a little. To her surprise, she passed Jackson on the way, who gave her a small smile, but said nothing. Obviously he had decided to come back on call tonight against orders.

When Harper approached Kane’s bed, she saw that Abby was sitting in the chair next to it, now asleep, which perhaps explained why Jackson had taken it upon himself to stay up in her place. Once again, Harper was struck by how very un-Chancellor-like Abby looked. She was slumped sideways in what looked like an extremely uncomfortable position, and one arm was draped over the side of the chair in a way that looked for all the world as if she had fallen asleep holding the hand of the man who lay next to her.

Harper watched them for a while; the steady rise and fall of their breathing, the worried lines in their faces smoothed out by sleep. She supposed she now knew for certain that the two of them were in fact – _technically_ – sleeping together.

Strange, it didn’t seem so funny now, after all.


End file.
